


You Know He Would Never Say No

by RetroactiveCon



Series: The Scars Won't Be Tough to Erase [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, First Time, M/M, Manipulative Eobard Thawne | Harrison Wells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21624577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: Eobard prides himself on his meticulous planning. Still, every once in a while he wants to indulge in something less wearisome than his years-long scheme. Hartley Rathaway provides just such a distraction.
Relationships: Hartley Rathaway/Harrison Wells | Eobard Thawne
Series: The Scars Won't Be Tough to Erase [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558543
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	You Know He Would Never Say No

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on "Valentine's Day," the song that inspired this story (and all my other EoWells/Hartley stories). If you listen to it, be aware that the lyrics could be triggering - in the song, what happens is clearly rape. (In my story, Hartley consents, although as the title notes, he would never say no to the man he thinks is Harrison Wells.)

Harrison prides himself on his meticulous planning. Still, every once in a while he wants to indulge in something less wearisome than his years-long scheme. Hartley Rathaway provides just such a distraction. 

It truly is too easy. The boy is begging to be used—if Harrison hadn’t snatched him up, he would have fallen happily into the hands (and bed) of the first person to give him a kind word. Underneath the bravado, he’s terrified of failure and of rejection. Harrison lavishes praise on him, and when he needs correction, Harrison is ever-so-gentle. It’s little wonder that Hartley goes from awed to infatuated in the space of a few weeks.

(Frankly, he’s shocked no one has noticed his intentions toward his youngest employee. The praise could be dismissed as a mentor encouraging a student, but the lingering touches are unmistakable—innocent at first glance, perhaps, but more prolonged than propriety would dictate. Hartley thrives on it, leaning into every touch like he can’t get enough. When faced with such a display, what can Harrison do but give him what he wants?)

It’s Hartley who initiates the change in their relationship. Like many evenings before, he begs to stay late, and he’s so very earnest that Harrison can’t say no. They secret themselves away in Hartley’s lab and work on equations until the sky outside is the shimmering black of raven’s feathers. Hartley grows frustrated, staring at the board and mumbling to himself.

“Something is _wrong,_ and I don’t know where…”

Harrison leans across him and taps a number. “Change this coefficient,” he suggests. “Maybe then it will make sense.” 

As he leans away from the board again, he makes the mistake of glancing at Hartley and finds that they’re almost nose to nose. Hartley’s cheeks have flushed from a combination of aggravation and embarrassment. He’s beautiful, Harrison thinks, as detached as if he were thinking of the weather. Then Hartley leans forward and kisses him. 

It’s not a heart-stopping kiss by any means. It’s a chaste press of lips, sweet and almost clumsy. When Hartley draws back, the color drains from his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I can go, I can…”

Harrison skims a thumb over Hartley’s lower lip just to watch how it gives beneath a little pressure. The way the boy trails off, the rest of his words vanishing in a breathless gasp, is a delightful bonus. “I’m not upset,” he whispers, pressing their lips together a second time. 

This time, it’s a kiss designed to inflame. Harrison forces Hartley to open up to him. Judging by his clumsy enthusiasm and the gorgeous shocked sounds he makes, Harrison is the first person to kiss him this way. It’s intoxicating, knowing he’s staking a claim on virgin territory. By the time they part for a breath, Harrison is thrumming with the thrill of marking Hartley as his. He wants Hartley’s innocence as much as he wants his body. One of those things will be a pleasant diversion while his plan comes to fruition—the other will be a prize to cherish even once he’s returned to the future. 

“This is wrong,” Hartley murmurs, his breathy tone belying his words. He wants to be taken as much as Harrison wants to take him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have reacted so sweetly to all of Harrison's advances.

“You want it.” Harrison presses a kiss to the tender skin of Hartley’s neck. He makes the most tempting little sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan, and lets his head fall back. “I want it. How can it be wrong?” 

Hartley surrenders beautifully, as though he’s been waiting for permission to give himself into Harrison's hands. It’s clear he’s never felt anything like this; every new sensation leaves him dazed and gasping, trying to find his balance. Harrison backs him against the desk, ostensibly to help him keep his otherwise precarious balance but also to make his face more visible to the camera tucked in the corner. 

“Oh!” Hartley mewls in surprise when Harrison slots a thigh between his legs. His hips jerk involuntarily, and the friction draws another ragged moan from his lips. Harrison slips his hands down to Hartley’s pert little ass and coaxes him to keep rolling his hips. He doesn’t need much encouragement to establish a clumsy rhythm that gets faster as he nears his climax. 

“That’s right, Hartley.” Harrison murmurs encouragement against the soft skin of his throat. He’s so tempted to bite, to bruise, but he doesn’t dare. Later, when he has Hartley naked and spread out, all that pale skin ready to be marked, he might indulge himself and bruise him where no one will see. “Come for me. Just let go.”

Hartley comes with a sound that goes straight to Harrison's cock. His hips keep moving, quick shallow twitches against Harrison's thigh. His expression is pure bliss. Harrison commits every detail of it to memory: the closed eyes, the slack mouth, the way his nose scrunches up just a bit. Sweet thing, he has no idea how humiliated he should be, coming in his pants like a schoolboy just from rubbing against Harrison's thigh. Harrison won’t let him remain that way for long (how stunning he’ll look, caught in the throes of pleasure, keenly ashamed of every action but feeling too good to stop) but he’ll glory in his naivete while it lasts. 

Hartley curls into Harrison's arms, nuzzling against his jaw like he wants a kiss. Harrison kisses him a little too hard, a little too long given that he’s still out of breath. He struggles, trying to break away and draw a breath, but he’s not strong enough to push Harrison away. By the time they part, Hartley is dizzy and gasping. 

“Feeling good?” Harrison asks gently, nuzzling Hartley’s ear. 

“Mhmm.” Hartley gives him a dazed smile. He presses the gentlest of kisses to Harrison's neck; then he murmurs, “Do you want me to…I could…in theory, I mean, I know how to…suck you off?” 

“You could.” The idea is appealing—Hartley looks like he belongs on his knees, that clever mouth stuffed full of cock—but it can wait. Harrison wants to spread him out and mark him, use him and own him. “Or…” He drops his voice to a low purr. “I could take you home and fuck you.” 

Hartley’s fingers dig into Harrison's shoulders as though he fears he’ll fall. _“Yes,”_ he sighs, sounding positively rapturous. 

So that is what they do. Harrison pretends not to know how envious Hartley will be—his home is ultra-modern and far larger than any one man can use, whereas Hartley has been sleeping in the lab, too unsure of his future to invest in an apartment. (Hartley doesn’t know he knows this; he makes a careful show of leaving every night to keep Harrison from realizing, which means he hasn’t yet noticed the cameras.) When they reach the house, he invites, “Make yourself at home,” fully aware that Hartley will not. 

“Oh.” Hartley drifts around the entry hall, staring at everything but touching nothing. He keeps his steps small and quiet as though he fears taking up too much space or making too much noise will prompt Harrison to toss him out. Harrison waits until he’s drifted to a stop in front of a small metallic sculpture to come up behind him and press a kiss to his neck. 

“Do you want to admire the furniture, or shall we engage in slightly more…stimulating pursuits?” 

Hartley shivers. “Yes,” he whispers. “I want…yes.”

Harrison leads him to the bedroom. Despite his thrumming impatience, he stops every so often to exchange kisses and caresses. The last thing he wants is for Hartley to lose his nerve—then he might have to be a touch more forceful. 

He needn’t have feared. By the time they reach the bedroom, Hartley is more than ready. He’s all eager hands and inexperience, fumbling with clothing and desperate to get his hands on bare skin. Harrison kisses him again to calm him down. “Hartley. Hartley, I’m going to do everything you want me to do to you, but if you ruin my clothes, I’ll have to spank you first.”

Hartley freezes, going slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Oh, now that’s interesting. Harrison takes advantage of his momentary motionlessness to undo his shirt the rest of the way and cast it aside. “Beautiful,” he murmurs as he slides the fabric from Hartley’s shoulders. 

Hartley curls in on himself. He’s slender, verging on emaciated: his ribs are too prominent, his arms too thin. Harrison skims gentle fingers down the line of his sternum. “You don’t have to be shy.” He presses a tender kiss to the sharp angle of Hartley’s shoulder, grazing his teeth against the soft pale skin. Hartley tenses up, whether because of shame or surprise Harrison can’t tell. He settles his hands on Hartley’s slender hips and plays idly with his waistband. “Why don’t you even the playing field?”

Hesitantly, he undoes the last two buttons of Harrison's shirt. Harrison lets it drop to the floor and stands motionless, his hands held slightly out from his sides, inviting Hartley to explore. “Like what you see?”

He barely feels Hartley’s first touch, a reverent brush of fingertips against his chest. “You won’t break me,” he invites with a crooked smile. “Go ahead.” 

Hartley flattens his palm over Harrison's heart. Once he’s counted four heartbeats (he has an affinity for the number four, something Harrison has noticed and found amusing), he lets his hand slip downward across the dip of Harrison's abdomen. He stops when his fingers brush the cloth of Harrison's waistband. “May I…?” 

He nods. “Of course.” 

They undress each other the rest of the way—Hartley eager but clumsy, Harrison slow and sure. Hartley blushes a particularly pretty pink when Harrison uncovers the mess he made of himself earlier, half-dried and no doubt uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry.” Harrison kisses his neck. “I intend to make a mess of you again by the time we’re done.” 

As soon as they’re fully undressed, Hartley lets himself be pushed into bed. Harrison watches how eagerly he lets his legs fall open and has to stifle a laugh. “Look at you,” he teases, wrapping a hand around Hartley’s cock and giving him a slow, teasing stroke. Hartley hitches his hips up, making a needy little noise low in his throat. “My beautiful boy. What will you let me do to you?”

“Anything.” Hartley grabs for Harrison's shoulder and very nearly misses. “I just want you to do it _now.”_

“Bossy,” Harrison chides. Perhaps next time, he’ll tie Hartley up and leave him wanting in order to teach him some patience. Or perhaps he’ll pit his impatience against his desperate need to please, making him touch himself until he’s close to orgasm and then forcing him to stop. Perhaps he’ll do both; after all, he suspects it won’t take more than a word or two to make Hartley fall right back into his bed. He could have him whenever (and however) he wants him. “And yet I feel the same.”

Were he a less selfish man, he would take his time. Hartley is eager, yes, but he’s also so nervous he’s trembling. He deserves to be eased into his first time. Harrison has no intention of easing him into anything. He wants to take him hard and fast until he’s utterly and indelibly claimed. To this end, he’s not particularly attentive to Hartley’s comfort. Hartley winces and makes sweet stifled sounds of pain, but within a few minutes those sounds have changed to mewls of pleasure and his wince has transformed into open-mouthed rapture. 

“Beautiful,” Harrison whispers. He skims a hand up Hartley’s heaving chest to play with a nipple. At the same time, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of Hartley’s shoulder. Hartley makes a sound that Harrison will remember for years, caught off-guard by the pleasure and the pain and shocked that he likes it. Precious boy—Harrison is going to show him, bit by bit, just how integral pain can be to pleasure. “Do you like that?”

Hartley begs so sweetly for _please more_ that Harrison can’t possibly deny him. He sucks a line of bruises into the skin over Hartley’s too-prominent clavicle, alternating hard suction with soothing licks. Just to tease, he matches the rhythm of his hips to the force he applies to bruising Hartley’s skin. Whenever he gentles his biting of Hartley’s throat or slows his rhythm, Hartley begs for more so prettily he can’t help but oblige. 

Harrison comes first, his thrusts turning into insistent grinding against Hartley’s ass. Hartley whimpers until Harrison wraps a hand around his cock. He comes at the first touch of Harrison's fingers. After, he allows Hartley to cuddle him despite wanting to turn him out immediately. It only lasts a few minutes: as the afterglow fades, Hartley’s uncertainty returns. “I…I should go.” 

“Go?” Harrison asks, feigning confusion although he agrees. 

“That was…” Hartley sits up and winces. No doubt he’s sore; Harrison wasn’t gentle. “You probably didn’t…” 

“Hartley.” Harrison cradles his pale cheek. Hartley leans into his touch, his eyes fluttering closed. He’s so vulnerable that Harrison can’t resist kissing him. “Do you still think this is wrong?”

“No.” Hartley stares reverently at him. No one else looks at him the way Hartley does, as though he hung and named the stars. It could get wearisome after a while, but right now it’s deeply gratifying. “I just want to be good for you.” 

Harrison smiles. Just like that, Hartley is his, not only now but for however much longer he wants him. “My beautiful boy,” he murmurs, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “You are.”


End file.
